Knight Swap
by Rosie eisoR
Summary: Ever wondered why Douglass is Raoul's squire in the Dain scene and then Gary's when they're ice-skating? Perhaps two very troublesome squires took it upon themselves to choose their own knightmasters. 2nd in the Tortall section of Piercefic '08.
1. A Switch in Time

Just a silly little fic that's been floating round in my head after Almighty Chrissy's comment: "Poor Gary, his squire(s) have so much FUN making his life hell."

The rating is for innuendo, less obvious in this chapter, but more prevalent in the subsequent two.

* * *

"What if we get caught?" she whispered.

"We won't," Sacherell replied, kissing her on the cheek. In truth, the likelihood of their being caught was relatively high, but his knight-master Gary would probably just hang another pregnancy charm around his neck and issue another warning about tampering with unwed ladies. Sacherell had asked Gary whether he was allowed to tamper with married women, but had received a diagram of a chastity belt for his troubles.

"You know, if you spoke to my father, we wouldn't have to worry so much about people seeing us," Lydia pressed, tracing a path up his arm with the tip of her finger.

Sacherell tried not to choke, and attempted the best smile he could muster under the circumstances. "You know I can't do that yet, Lydia, however much I might want to. I'm still only a squire - he'd laugh in my face and might not accept my proposal when I'm in a better position to make it."

She lowered her eyes, obviously disappointed. "I might be married off by then."

He paused, trying to look as though he were struggling with his feelings, and not as though this was this exact outcome he wanted. "Then we must make the best of the time we have," he said, "And hope that time doesn't come to an end too soon. I don't know what I'd do without you."

So, it looked like Lydia was lost. He knew exactly what he'd do; he'd try Delia or Gwynnen again, but experience had taught him it was best not to say that. Besides, Delia had enough important admirers, enough so that he was completely overlooked, and Gwynnen was temporarily off-limits until he could figure out how to talk to her without turning into a pile of mush. Lydia was perfect for the moment; large blue eyes, curly brown hair and dimples. He had made it his personal quest to kiss every woman with dimples, as a sort of reward for them, until he had noticed that Lady Seraphine had dimples, and had promptly abandoned his mission.

"Sachy! You're doing it again! You're simply beastly, you promised me!" somebody wailed. A somebody whose voice was all too familiar to Sacherell.

Sacherell groaned. "Go away," he instructed, squeezing his eyes shut. He could not, unfortunately, block his ears.

"Go away?! Is that any way to speak to your beloved? You told me last night that I was the only one for you, and now I find you with this poor excuse for a lady!"

"Is this true, Sacherell?" Lydia demanded.

Sacherell's eyes snapped open, caught in a moment of indecision. He concluded that Lydia really wasn't worth it, and he wanted to be rid of this situation as soon as possible. "Yes," he said, resigned. "Lady Lydia, I'm afraid Lady Do- Donna is my betrothed. I - I can't apologise enough."

Lydia's eyes widened. "You – you pig!" she exploded, all her lady-like demure vanishing as she slapped Sacherell. "I never want to see you again!"

"That's the third one this month," Sacherell moaned, clapping a hand to his smarting cheek as he watched Lydia flounce off in a cloud of pink skirts. "I really liked her."

Douglass snorted, fiddling with his wig. "Nonsense. Firstly, if you really liked her, why did I catch you drooling at Lady Gwynnen's feet the other day? You'll make a very good puppy when you finally give up this knight malarkey."

Sacherell grinned, giving his year-mate a friendly shove. "I'll keep that in mind, thanks for the advice. What was secondly?"

"There was no secondly, but I'll make one up just for you," Douglass said sweetly. "Secondly, you wouldn't have played along and agreed that I was your betrothed."

"That's not my fault," Sacherell protested, pressing his hand over his heart and sending Douglass an earnest look, batting his eyes for effect. "The sight of you in a dress makes my knees tremble and I become completely incapable of saying whatever it is that I start out saying."

Douglass looked gratified. "I even remembered to shave this time. See, no stubble at all. I call it the Alan Shave."

"Suits you," replied Sacherell. "As long as you don't let him hear you say that. You know how touchy he gets about his masculinity, or lack thereof. Anyway, what's so important that you needed to scare away my catch of the day?"

Douglass fluttered his eyelashes. Disturbingly enough, he was almost the spitting image of his sister, and it was most likely her dress Douglass was currently wearing, judging by the abundance of lace. The last time Sacherell had met her, she had not taken kindly to his attempts to take a closer look at what was under the lace, and he had therefore lost interest.

"Oh, I see, you're tired of me now, is that it?"

"Never," Sacherell said, grinning. "I want to get down to business simply to give us more time to get up to more interesting activities later."

Douglass smirked. "I can see why the ladies find you so appealing, Squire Sachy." He cleared his throat. "You may remember that, after much deliberation, the late Raoul and Gary-"

Sacherell held up a hand, his throat constricting. "Late? They're not – not - has anything happened?"

"No. They were, however, very late for breakfast. One cannot help but wonder why. If I may continue?" Sacherell nodded, the colour flooding back into his cheeks. "Anyway. Obviously, Raoul picked me to be his squire and for some unfathomable reason, Gary opted for you. Whilst I am sure these decisions took a vast amount of time, if truth be told, I cannot help but think that they made the wrong choices. So. I propose, and you _must_ accept, that we aid them in altering those choices lest catastrophic consequences occur." He smiled beatifically. "And they will occur."

Sacherell arched an eyebrow at him, combing a hand through his hair. "Oh, I must agree, must I?"

"Are you suggesting that you would refuse my proposal?" Douglass wanted to know. "Well, no, obviously that's impossible, practically inconceivable, but if you were to refuse, I would have to try Lady Gwynnen."

"To swap her knight for yours?" Sacherell asked sceptically.

Douglass smoothed his skirts out carefully before replying, "Oh, no. No, to swap her squire for me."

Sacherell eyed him warily. "I don't believe you. But," he continued hastily as Douglass turned away, "I am willing to consider your proposition. Seriously consider it, in fact," he added quickly as Douglass took a large step towards the palace. "I mean, let's do it. Why not?"

Why not indeed? Gary kept making him copy out endless laws, not seeming to care that he was depriving the palace scribes of their jobs, for which they at least got paid. Sacherell and Raoul got on, after all, and Sacherell was keen to see what Douglass had in mind for this particular idea. He'd probably regret consenting to it, but that would be later.

Douglass smiled triumphantly. "Then here begins the Great Knight Swap of 435."

* * *

"You wish to change knights."

"Well, yes," Sacherell said uncomfortably, raising a hand to brush his hair out of his eyes, and then freezing mid-motion as though Duke Gareth wouldn't approve. He dropped the hand hurriedly.

Douglass shot his friend a disdainful look. Clearly he didn't know the first thing about dealing with the Duke. Really, it was kind that Douglass had offered to swap. Sacherell was a sweet boy, but he was definitely not a fitting squire for the Naxen family. Douglass would do a much better job.

"If it's not too much trouble, your Grace," he said sincerely, locking his hands behind his back.

Duke Gareth sighed. "Veldine, I generally find that everything you do is too much trouble. When you leave, I won't have any idea of what to do with myself."

"Your Grace is too kind," Douglass replied sweetly.

Duke Gareth did not look particularly amused. "Whilst we are on the subject of trouble, Squire Douglass, could you tell me exactly why it is that I have seen you running around in a dress four times in the last two months?"

"Certainly, your Grace," said Douglass, fighting the urge to smile. "You must have seen my sister. I'm told the resemblance between us is uncanny."

Gareth rubbed his eyes, his lips pressing together. "Squire Douglass, it pains me to remind you that you do not actually have a sister."

Douglass snickered, glancing sideways at Sacherell, who looked appalled. "Of course I don't, your Grace. I don't know what I was thinking."

To his satisfaction (and admittedly slight relief), Duke Gareth abandoned the topic, apparently assuming it was something he'd rather not know. "Obviously, I'm flattered that you would rather have my son as your knight-master, and moreover delighted that you saw fit to inform me first for once, but I do have to wonder if this is connected to the reason you wanted Sir Raoul's knighthood revoked."

"Please don't wonder, your Grace," Douglass said, wincing slightly as the Duke hit on the point. "It isn't good for me."

Both Sacherell's eyebrows were raised, and he turned towards Douglass, a smile playing around his lips. Douglass hoped he wouldn't back out now. "Revoked?"

"Yes. It means withdrawn."

"I believe Squire Douglass wished for me to _withdraw_ Sir Raoul's knighthood on account of his penchant for early morning exercise routines," Gareth informed Sacherell, resting his chin on his interlinked fingers. "He seemed to consider it as a form of abuse."

Douglass shook his head. "With all due respect, your Grace is being ridiculous. I specifically recall saying torture, and further showing you the Jindazhenese examples, plus Sir Raoul's family tree."

"Ah, yes, I remember now. Both written in a hand suspiciously similar to your own. But I assume that is because your sister has taken up scribe work when she's not swanning around on palace grounds."

Douglass nodded, looking pleased. "Ah, so you do know her!"

The Duke looked vaguely amused. "Squire Sacherell, were you aware that, according to the charts Squire Douglass was so kind as to provide me with, your prospective knight-master is related to Somso the Tyrant of Jindazhen?"

"Sir Raoul did neglect to tell me that, your Grace," Sacherell admitted, his face earnest. "Though I don't suppose he would want something like that to become common knowledge."

Gareth narrowed his eyes at Sacherell. "I do believe that Squire Douglass is a bad influence on you," he said shrewdly.

"Oh?" Sacherell replied innocently. "In what way?"

"In that way." Duke Gareth examined them both before sighing. "Boys, you know that a knight picks his squire and that's that. I cannot recall anybody having switched before, and certainly not over something so trivial as morning exercises."

Douglass gave him a pitiful look. "_Wrestling_, your Grace. _Wrestling_ with _Raoul_. It's like having a house fall on you."

Duke Gareth returned to his paperwork. "I imagine that having a house fall on you would be far less painful if you were a castle. Do something useful for once, rather than playing these silly games."

Douglass frowned, ran over the words again in his head to check that the Duke really was telling him to become a castle, and then decided it would be better not to ask. "Thank you for your time, your Grace," he said instead, bowing and leaving the room.

Once outside, he waited for Sacherell to make his excuses, and slung an arm around the boy's neck as he too exited.

"Well, I'd say that went pretty well, wouldn't you?"

Sacherell raised his eyebrows. "Nothing happened," he pointed out. "And what was that about you not having a sister?"

"Ah, but it did," Douglass replied, tweaking Sacherell's nose and choosing to ignore the bit about his non-existent sister. "His Grace gave us permission. In a roundabout way. You just have to be able to speak his language. And, now he knows what we're doing. He's a collaborator. There's no going back."

Sacherell had the uncomfortable feeling that Douglass was right. There wasn't.


	2. Dressed to Distress

The firstly/thirdly joke is taken from my brother. Also, I adored the 'very bad man' comment from Squire and have thus adapted it for my own purposes. And kudos to anyone who spots the 'Apocalypse Now' reference.

* * *

"Lady Gwynnen will kill me!" Sacherell moaned, peeking through the door and looking faintly green.

Douglass rolled his eyes, poking his friend. "Gary, we want Gary to ki- to want to kill you," he reminded Sacherell.

"I still don't understand why you aren't putting your precious neck on the line," grumbled Sacherell, folding his arms across his chest, somewhat satisfied that he had found a delaying tactic at last.

"Oh, I am," Douglass assured him. "Just you wait and see what happens when Raoul turns up. Stop dragging it out."

Sacherell pulled a face. "I can give you three good reasons why I shouldn't do this." Sceptically, Douglass nodded for him to go on. "Firstly, I'm pretty sure I'm going to end up dead by the end of the evening. Thirdly-"

"You missed secondly," Douglass interrupted.

"No, I didn't," protested Sacherell. "I didn't say 'three good reasons in order', did I?"

Douglass rolled his eyes. "The first wasn't any good anyway. Now hurry up before your irate - uhhh, even-tempered overlord gets here!" He gave his friend a helpful shove through the door, which happened to send Sacherell sprawling across the room. Douglass watched Sacherell pick himself up, brush down his clothes and stroll over to Cythera.

"I love the smell of doomed squire in the evening," he murmured, grinning. Everything was going according to his plan. Gary would be furious at Sacherell for paying special attention to Cythera, but unable to find an outlet for his rage - until, that is, Raoul suggested switching squires, when Gary would jump at the chance. They could all wander off into the sunset together, and then Douglass would never need to see sunrise again.

"Douglass! Is that a - a _dress_?"

Douglass turned to face Gary, looking down at his dress. "Oh, yes. I'm so terribly embarrassed, Raoul told me to wear one, but nobody else is!"

Gary attempted to look serious but fell into a coughing fit, which conveniently covered up the fact that he was laughing. "I don't think Raoul actually told you to wear a dress tonight."

"No, he did!" Douglass insisted, widening his eyes. "Right after he told me to get his summer wardrobe out." He paused, looked down at the ground as though considering something, then back up at Gary. "Come to think of it, that was full of dresses too, but I didn't like to question it. It's not my place, as a squire, to question my master. I simply assumed it was, well, a new court fashion. But it appears not."

Gary dissolved into another bout of coughing. "I think Raoul may want a word with you later," he said hoarsely.

"Do you need some water?" Douglass asked, affecting a look of concern. "I could fetch you some, it wouldn't be any trouble."

Gary shook his head. "I'm fine. You should be concerned about yourself, mind. Go talk to Raoul."

"Later," said Douglass, scuffing a foot across the floor. "I'm a little angry at him to tell the truth. I mean, what kind of knight-master tells his impressionable squire to wear a dress?"

"The very bad kind," Gary said, his mouth twitching.

Douglass looked at him imploringly. "You wouldn't, would you? I bet you're a wonderful knight-master, and there goes Sacherell, not appreciating you at all."

"Oh, I think Sacherell knows he's lucky," replied Gary genially. "Are you suggesting it's possible for somebody to know me and not feel privileged?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" Douglass said, feigning anxiety. "I'm just saying - Well, never mind."

Gary raised an eyebrow. "Saying what?"

The blond boy shrugged and helpfully pushed open the door. Gary gave him a suspicious look and poked his head around.

"Ah." Gary shut the door again and leaned against it, tugging at his collar. "Well, he can dance with her - with anybody he wants. It's not like I'm betrothed to any of them, after all."

Douglass felt a pang of guilt, but ignored it. It wasn't as though Sacherell had designs on Cythera. "It's just - she's your lady. I'm only saying that if I was your squire, I would show you more respect."

"Yes. Well." Gary clapped Douglass on the shoulder. "You're a good boy. Well." He looked Douglass over. "You're a boy who looks good in a dress at any rate."

"Thank you, Gary," Douglass said with a grin. "I daresay more eloquent words have never been spoken. You do take after your father, you know. I fancy he'd say the same thing if he were here."

Gary smiled, and ruffled Douglass's hair affectionately before disappearing into the ballroom.

"Squire!"

Disappointingly, Douglass's knight-master had found men's clothes somewhere else, though he still looked ridiculous since they were far too small, the sleeves ending several inches above his wrists. However, even more disappointingly, he did not look particularly angry, and he hadn't begun to change colours yet.

"Yes, milord?"

"You didn't happen to exchange all my outfits for dresses, did you, Douglass?" Raoul enquired, giving Douglass's own attire a sceptical glance, to which Douglass immediately took offence. He had chosen his yellow and green dress very carefully, and it was not something to be brushed aside.

He feigned innocence, and batted his eyes at his knight-master. "Yes, milord. Didn't you ask me to?"

"No, but this is excellent," Raoul said happily. "I can't go. I'll have to go back to my room and miss all the social functions until I get more sent from Goldenlake."

Douglass raised an eyebrow at him. "Can you not find a palace tailor, milord?"

"Oh, no, I can't have anything but Goldenlake design, cloth and stitching or I'd be betraying my fief," Raoul informed him, smirking. "It should arrive in, oh, late July? At the earliest. You can go right ahead, though, that dress looks stunning on you."

Grinning, he patted Douglass on the back and returned to his rooms.

Horrified, Douglass slumped against the door. This was going to be harder than he had originally thought, clearly.

That meant it was time to call in reinforcements.

* * *

"You don't need a pregnancy charm!"

Sacherell's voice carried through the thick wood of the door before he had even laid his hand on it to push it open, giving the two already inside enough time to roll their eyes at each other.

"You want me to get pregnant? Do you hear him?" Douglass asked Alan and Geoffrey as he entered the practice room, a pregnancy charm (presumably the cause of their discussion) dangling from his fingers. "He wants me to be cast out from society with naught to support my babe but my two hands."

Sacherell made a very rude gesture at Douglass before collapsing on a chair, rubbing his face.

"Uh, Douglass?" Alan said hesitantly.

Douglass, who had his hands on his hips, turned towards Alan, his eyebrows raised expectantly.

"How exactly do you-" He swallowed, turning red. "Do you think you'll get pregnant?" he finished, the whole of his face a shade darker than his hair.

A sharp grin lit Douglass's face. "Well, you see, Alan, it-"

"No!" Sacherell interjected, a note of alarm in his voice. "I don't care how funny you think it is, I'm not sitting through you re-enacting sex with your fingers again."

Douglass paused, the thumb and forefinger of his left hand already having formed a circle. "Why not?"

"Men can't get pregnant!" Sacherell exploded finally.

"Oh?" Douglass enquired, a smile curling over his lips. "Then why, pray tell, do _you_ carry around all those pregnancy charms?"

Sacherell coughed, tugging at his collar as he averted his eyes from the other squires. "Uh, it's hot in here. And they're for, uh, protection, you know, getting, uhhh, caught short."

"If you're getting caught _short_, dear Sacherell, I have to say - I didn't think that was something pregnancy charms could help you with."

Sacherell's face worked and he jumped to his feet, drawing his sword. "All right," he snapped. "Enough's enough."

"_Is_ it enough?" Douglass asked, tilting his head on one side, the smile still playing over his lips.

By this point, Sacherell was beginning to wish he'd stayed in bed that morning. "Yes," he said curtly.

Douglass's eyes were fixed on the sword, one of his eyebrows raised. "Sachy, you're baring yourself. I realise you're comfortable with it, really, I do. Don't get me wrong, I admire you so for it and I understand how proud you are of the state and popularity of your pe- ahem, sword, but the sight's beginning to make me queasy."

"The sound of your bickering is starting to make me feel queasy," Geoffrey rapped out. "Shut it, both of you."

Douglass quietened for a moment, looking warily at Geoffrey, but he quickly brightened again. "Do you know what would shut me up?"

"Cutting out your tongue?"

Again, Douglass hesitated, flicking a would-be casual glance at Sacherell. The other boy's eyes were fixed on Geoffrey, his sword still out, and his face was utterly blank. Somewhat comforted that Sacherell would (probably) stop Geoffrey if he decided to challenge Douglass, the plump boy relaxed. "No."

"Leave them, Geoff," Alan put in, giving Geoffrey a warning look. "He means he'll shut up if you go along with his plan."

Geoffrey's dark eyes flickered, and he lowered them. Douglass was just opening his mouth to break the awkward silence when Geoffrey said, in an attempt to be friendly again, "What plan is this?"

"They want to switch knight-masters and instead of just asking, they're planning to make Raoul and Gary hate them," Alan informed him, rolling his eyes.

Geoffrey raised a single eyebrow in response.

"It'll work!" Douglass said defensively.

"Right."

Alan grinned, pulling himself into an upright position. "You know, you're going to put them off both of you. They'll just give you back to Duke Gareth, and then you'll be disgraced."

Sacherell looked horrified. To reassure his friend - and ensure he wouldn't back out - Douglass patted him on the shoulder. "There's no way they'd own up to Gary's father that they couldn't control two young boys," he said confidently.

Alan snorted. "I think they'd have no problem doing that. Not when it's you two."

Douglass paused for a second, his lips curling up in a smile. "So, we're going about it the wrong way?" he asked Alan delicately.

"Exactly."

"Then how would you propose to go about it?" He held up a finger, stopping Alan from talking. "Please, more inventive suggestions than _asking permission_ or _something slimy_," he said scathingly.

Alan flushed. "There's nothing wrong with something slimy!"

Douglass and Sacherell shared a barely perceptible look.

"Quite," Sacherell said easily, walking over to the younger boy and crouching down next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. "There's nothing _wrong_ with it; in fact, it's all we can come up with. But we just think that, well, Gary and Raoul would expect us to do something like that. Besides, we know you don't like to do the expected."

"Like washing," Douglass muttered, luckily too quietly for Alan to hear.

Sacherell shot Douglass a dark look. "Anyway, you know them better than we do, Alan. We're just their squires, you're their friend, after all."

He held his breath as Alan considered this. He had been laying the flattery on a bit thickly, but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Finally, Alan tugged himself free of Sacherell's grip and cleared his throat. "Uh, well, there is one thing you could try, I guess."


	3. Sweet Deceit

Much thanks to both q-sama and Kirsty, both of whom got roped into reading this for me, and both of whom I adore! This chapter is also for AlmightyChrissy, as anything Naxen inevitably is.

* * *

"It's humiliating," Douglass complained. "You wouldn't understand."

Sacherell pursed his lips, collapsing on the bed next to his friend. "Well, no, you're entirely right there," he agreed. "Because, if I'm not mistaken, it was your idea to get Alan involved in the first place."

A grunt from Douglass confirmed this was the case.

"And you accept that his advice was, unusually, quite useful."

A second grunt suggested Douglass wasn't up to providing his customary verbal delights.

"And earlier you agreed that we should follow it."

Douglass gave Sacherell a baleful look, which the latter took to be affirmation.

"Then why in the name of Mithros's sword are you now balking at it? Don't tell me you're having second thoughts about the whole thing at this stage?"

Douglass shoved at Sacherell, nearly succeeding in pushing the other boy off the bed. "No," he said. "Raoul had me up before dawn this morning. You know midday suits my complexion much better. I'm sure you'll look perfectly lovely at sunrise; you have the eyes for it."

Sacherell rolled said dawn-appropriate eyes, and waited.

Predictably, Douglass cracked. "Oh, you know. It's just the thought of having to go to Alan for advice, and then having to take it. It would have been fine if he'd come up with something useless, but now I feel... displaced."

Sacherell snorted. "One good suggestion from Alan does not discount all the solid years of pranks that we have put in. Besides." He lowered his voice, though his mouth was close to Douglass's ear anyway. "No one needs to know."

Douglass brightened at this. "No, I suppose they don't, do they? But it wouldn't hurt, just to try a few other things out first? I mean, it's _Alan_. We convinced him for months that you were Alex's squire, and Geoffrey was Gary's."

"I'll give you a day to come up with something else," Sacherell said, sounding resigned.

* * *

"Maybe I should tell Raoul that I'm in love with him," Douglass mused over breakfast. "I could say that I'm no longer comfortable being in such close proximity to him all the time – and if forced to stay under such conditions, I should not be held accountable for my actions."

Sacherell threw half of a bread roll at him, managing, "I think you'd get a well-deserved clip around the ear," around a mouthful of the other half.

"You're right," said Douglass, deflating, and chucking the roll at Alan. "Ooh, maybe I could tell Gary that I'm in love with _him_, and-"

"No, Dougy. None of your ridiculous knight-and-squire fantasies at the breakfast table, please."

Douglass raised an eyebrow at Sacherell, looking suspicious. "That was awfully touchy. Are you having a torrid affair with Raoul?" He pressed a hand to his chest, and Sacherell had the horrible feeling that this was going to get worse. "Goddess's skirts, it's Gary, isn't it? You've been sleeping with Gareth the Not Getting Any Younger, and he's finally seen sense! That's why you've concocted this whole knight-swapping affair! Well, my dear boy, we can't all expect to catch and hold a Naxen's fancy-"

Alan supplied Sacherell with the remainder of the roll, which, with careful aim, the latter was able to bounce off Douglass's nose.

"I think we should stop this before you pair up Jonathan and the lovely Alan here, and our sweetest-tempered squire offers to grind your nose into pig-muck," Sacherell said wisely.

"Oh, I could probably come up with something a little more inventive," Alan said with a grin, though his voice cracked somewhere in the middle.

Douglass considered mocking Alan's voice for finally breaking (Alan might sprout a chest-hair or two soon if he was really lucky), but decided not to encourage this new-found creative streak.

* * *

"I give in."

"What?"

Douglass scowled at Sacherell. "I surrender, admit defeat, submit to Alan's _superior ideas_."

Sacherell grinned, reaching across to ruffle the other squire's hair. "It's all right. You know, no matter how many new concepts our resident redhead comes up with, you'll always be my favourite."

A beat passed, and Douglass ducked out of the way of Sacherell's hand.

Sacherell cleared his throat. "So, ah, I'll talk to Gwynnen, then. I think she'd be most receptive to the idea, and I know Raoul would listen to her."

Douglass kicked at the wall, leaving Sacherell staring at him in surprise. "No, that's fine," he answered in a tight voice. "Perfect. Gwynnen. Right. Well, it's not exactly hard to figure out which lovely Court rose it is that Sir Gary would most like to prick." He gave Sacherell a winning smile.

"That's not really the best language to approach Cythera with," Sacherell said cautiously. "Fortunately, she probably wouldn't understand it, but she'd ask you to explain – not that I imagine that would be a problem for you."

"I don't use such language amongst delicate Court flowers," Douglass replied archly.

"Delia."

Douglass rolled his eyes. "_I'm_ more delicate than Delia. Besides, it was a wonderful pun, and if you'd have thought of it, you would have done the same. It's the jealousy making you talk, Sachy, but don't worry. I forgive you."

"I'm not sure anybody else appreciated the irony of her wearing her riding gloves when leaving Jon's rooms, even though, yes, she probably _was_ riding Jon. And I still haven't forgiven you for stealing one, which meant I got sent on border patrol!"

That subdued Douglass, but not enough to prevent him from attempting a defence. "It's not like I anticipated Gary and Raoul starting a war over it!"

Sacherell let out a sigh. "All right. Enough. Go find Cythera. And be nice."

"Have you ever known me any other way?" Douglass asked, batting his eyelashes.

"Yes."

* * *

"Squire? Sacherell, are you listening to me?"

Sacherell managed a nod, gulping. He wished he'd sent Douglass to talk to Gwynnen. Douglass always found the right things to say, and had no concept of embarrassment. Sacherell was caught in a shame spiral, and his face kept getting hotter and hotter.

And he hadn't made it past 'hello' yet.

Gwynnen placed a hand on his arm, smiling up at him. "What was it you wanted, then, Squire?"

"Raoul," he said. Then, horrified, he shook his head. "No, that's not – oh, dear."

Gwynnen was looking alarmed by this point, and her hand was now hovering a few inches above his arm, as though she were planning on withdrawing it slowly.

Right.

It worked with other girls; he couldn't understand what happened to his tongue when Gwynnen was around. It appeared to thicken, and he had no hope of making the slightest bit of sense.

But he couldn't let Douglass down.

She was pulling her arm back slowly – it was like a countdown. Before it reached her body, he had forced a smile onto his face.

"Lady Gwynnen, I was wondering if you would deign to bestow a favour upon me," he said, using his previously rehearsed lines.

She inclined her head gracefully, looking intrigued, or possibly just thankful that he had pulled himself together.

"I suffer," Sacherell continued, unsure whether he was laying it on too thickly, but too delighted that words were leaving his mouth fully-formed to be overly concerned, "from the hardship of having a desk knight for a knight-master." He gave her a pitiful look. Gary wasn't precisely a desk knight, though he certainly was heading that way, but Gwynnen wouldn't know that.

Gwynnen folded her arms over her chest – _eyes on her face, Sacherell, keep your eyes on her face_ – and fixed him with a scrutinising look. "I see. What have I to do with this?"

"Well. There is a knight-master I'd prefer, but these things aren't a squire's place, you see. I know that Sir Raoul listens to you-" This was definitely an exaggeration, because Raoul became more flustered than Sacherell did around Gwynnen, if that were possible. "-and respects your opinion. If it's not too much to ask, I was hoping you might put in a good word for me with him."

Sacherell exhaled, not quite able to believe how many words he'd managed to utter in front of Gwynnen without stumbling once.

Her face was thoughtful, and then, suddenly, she smiled. "This is Squire Douglass's doing, isn't it?"

"I can think of things independently," Sacherell objected.

The way she wrinkled her nose at him was certainly very distracting. "Nothing like this. This is a regular revolution. Knight-swapping. How unconventional."

"Would my lady care to help us?"

Gwynnen tilted her head on one side, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Squire."

He thought it would probably be wise to leave it there, in case a marriage proposal slipped out.

* * *

"Sir Gareth?"

Gary turned, and choked. "Lady Cythera," he spluttered, bowing. "May I help you?"

"If it isn't too much trouble," Cythera replied, looking as lovely as ever. Privately, Gary wondered if even the Goddess would be able to match Cythera. He held back a response that nothing would be too much trouble for her - counting the grains of sand in the Southern Desert would be fine, for example, but he wouldn't be so keen on talking to that sister of hers. "I fancied a turn around the gardens, and wondered if you would trouble yourself to accompany me."

Praising every deity he could think of whilst Cythera's eyes were fixed on his, Gary offered his arm to her. "I would be delighted to, my lady."

Cythera took his arm, and began walking in the direction of the Queen's gardens. "I ran across your delightful squire today, Sir Gareth."

Gary wasn't sure there were enough words for 'sorry', just then. "Really?" he asked cautiously.

"Oh, yes. He kept Lady Gwynnen and myself amused for much of the late morning."

He forced his hands not to clench, reminding himself that she would be able to tell if he tensed up. "Is that so?"

"Did I get him into trouble?" Cythera asked, bringing their walk to a halt, as she gave Gary an alarmed look. "Was he supposed to be doing work for you?"

Gary shook his head. "No," he replied. "Not that tasks usually stop Sacherell from amusing ladies."

"Sacherell?" she repeated, her brows drawing together in a delicate frown. "I thought he was Sir Raoul's squire? How peculiar. They seem suited to one another, don't you think?"

Gary matched her frown. "Ah, I – I suppose," he said, caught off guard. "Whom did you think was my squire, then?"

"Squire Douglass," Cythera answered innocently, though her cheeks turned a shade pinker. "He seems entertaining and charming, just like – well."

Now she was definitely blushing.

Gary tried to swallow, too delighted by what he thought she might mean to actually attempt anything resembling charm.

"Cythera," a voice called from further down the hall. Gary wished he'd thought to start moving; a few more steps and they'd have been safely in the garden. As it was, Gwynnen caught up with them easily.

"Sir Gareth," she greeted, sounding delighted. "Good afternoon."

He bowed; she swept him a graceful curtsy. "Good afternoon, Lady Gwynnen," he said tersely. "I hope you are well?"

"Exceedingly, thank you, Sir Gareth," Gwynnen answered, a smile playing on her lips. "Are you going to the Queen's Gardens?"

Cythera had replied before Gary could think to deny it. "Oh, yes, I forgot you said that you wanted to visit them today, to check on the progress of the roses. Sir Gareth won't mind if you join us."

Which wasn't exactly true. Gary bit back a remark, and offered his other arm to Gwynnen. As she threaded her arm through his, he had to admit that this situation could have been worse.

"Sir Gareth was just informing me that Squire Douglass is not his squire at all!"

Gwynnen nodded. "I know. I've just come from talking to Sir Raoul, and he's thinking of handing Squire Douglass back to Duke Gareth."

Cythera gasped. "But why?"

As they exited the doors of the palace, Gary had the uncomfortable feeling that he had been demoted to the position of leaning post.

"Well, I think he's actually considering asking Sir Myles to take him up. Myles is a desk knight, and that is what Douglass would rather be. Raoul thought he was going to be more of an active squire, you see. He says he's tolerable at all his jobs, but he can tell Douglass's heart is not in it."

"He's going to Sir Myles? Oh, the poor boy," Cythera said mournfully. They lapsed into silence for a moment, before she added, "It is a shame that nobody else can take him on."

"Sir Raoul will be left without a squire as well," Gwynnen pointed out. "He did say he would fancy having the Wellam boy, if given the opportunity."

If Gary had been thinking clearly, warning bells might have sounded at Gwynnen referring to his squire as "the Wellam boy". Gary knew of Sacherell's tendency to hang around Gwynnen like a bad smell. As it was, Cythera clutching at his arm successfully distracted him. "Do you hear that, Gary? What if you were to, say, swap him Sacherell for Douglass?"

Gary moved one of his hands to scratch his chin, but realised there was a lady attached to each. "Er. I'm not sure that is how it is done, really. We already chose our squires."

"Oh, but if anybody could switch, surely it would be you?" Gwynnen pushed, accidentally pressing closer to him. "I mean, you must have a vast amount of influence with your father. I'm sure you could persuade him to do _anything_."

"Ah, yes," Gary said, a little dazed. "I could."

Cythera removed her arm from his to clap her hands together. "Oh, and you'll be saving that dear boy in the process. How wonderful!"

He could have sworn that Gwynnen winked at Cythera here, but any further thoughts on this were swallowed up by the former's next words. "I'll leave you two here, then. The roses are off this way."

He managed a stiff sort of bow, aware that he was now alone with Cythera. If being surrounded by gardeners counted as being alone.

* * *

"Just let me talk," Gary muttered to Raoul, rapping on his father's door.

"Come in," came the response; Gary and Raoul gave each other nervous looks, and obeyed.

"Ah, boys." The Duke was settled at his desk. He set down his quill and gave them a warm smile. "What can I do for you?"

"Er," Gary began eloquently. "Er, Father, you see, the thing is..."

"We have assessed the situation," Raoul picked up, raising an eyebrow at Gary, "and we believe we simply have more to offer each other's squires."

Duke Gareth looked grave at this, and he folded his hands on top of the desk. "Are you proposing an exchange?"

"Yes."

To the boys' bemusement, the Duke began to laugh. "Well, I have to admit, I underestimated that pair. I shall be sure to give them more credit in future, and you two-" Here, he sobered. "-less."

Gary looked awkward. "Father?"

"I would be tempted to invite them to be part of our War Cabinet, if I did not think it would result in the amplification of their mischief. Very well. I suppose they will find their own reward – not that I believe such behaviour merits a reward at all – and I think your decision will result in worse punishment than anything I could devise for you, even if you were still under my care."

The young knights frowned, uncomprehending.

"I had hoped a member of my family would not fall for one of Veldine's schemes. Now. If that was all you wanted, I must get on with drafting this letter to Carthak."

They bowed, and exited.

"What was all that about?" Raoul muttered.

"I think we might have been tricked," Gary sighed, pulling a face and trying to work out how they might have drawn in Cythera.

Raoul's jaw worked for a moment, before he grinned at Gary. "I suppose we don't have to tell them just yet that we went to your father. See what else they try."

Gary clapped Raoul on the back. "What an excellent suggestion."

* * *

**END OF FIC**


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